Revenge
by somegirlwrites
Summary: Revenge tasted so much sweeter when you're doing it for someone else. Dark Seymour AU. Rated M for safety.


**A/N-just a short note, Seymour is MUCh darker in this. Instead of letting Orin asphyxiate in the mask, he takes it off in time and leads him to the alley where he shows him what happens to guys like him. Inspired by Otpdisaster on tumblr.**

 _Take my hand, it's never been cleaner_

 _Blood once ran_

 _Through my shaking fingers_

 _The blood of the fool_

 _That once drew yours_

The cool, Autumn night leaked a sort of ominous stench, one continuously disregarded by Skid Row's inhabitants. It was late at night— so late that nobody hung around the streets (aside from a few winers) and no one saw the innocent botanist dragging a half-conscious dentist across the street.

Even if someone did, nobody on Skid Row could bother being concerned.

"Kid," croaks Orin. "If you wanted to steal my girl you coulda just told-.. me. Fight it out like-" he coughs. "Like Men."

"Men," scoffs Seymour. "Men? You're hardly a man."

"Have you even hit puberty, kid?" Orin laughs. He was still high, and his voice scratched like a record. Seymour wanted to kill him then and there, but he had to give it time.

"I don't want to fight you, Orin."

"Ah, but killing me is A-okay." He snorts, then chuckles, then seizes for a bit and then sits still.

Seymour rolls his eyes indefinitely, tightening the rope bound around the dentist's arms. "Yeah. It is. After you get what you deserve."

"What do I deserve, kiddo? Whatcha gonna do? Stab me with rose thorns?"

"Close, but that comes later," Seymour pulls something out of his pocket. It glitters in the moonlight.

"Handcuffs?" Wheezes Orin.

" _Your_ handcuffs." Seymour corrects, locking them tight around the dentist's shaking wrists. Orin breaks into more annoying laughter.

"My—.. MY handcuffs. What'd you do, take 'em outta her bag?"

"Yes." Seymour drops the key back in his pocket.

"That slut doesn't deserve 'revenge'. Can't even fight for herself-"

Seymour's hand struck his cheek. "Don't talk about her like that! You lock her up, beat her! How's she supposed to fight back if you're holding her down?!"

"Bitch deserved it."

"I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A BITCH DESERVES—" Seymour lowered his voice. "You have no idea what you've walked into."

"No, I don't. I thought the twelve year-old she worked with who gets off every time she walks by was just as weak as she is— Ugh! H-hey! I'm just havin' fun!" He struggled against Seymour's hand.

"Fun? Is that what you say when you hurt her? When you take advantage of her?" He tightened his grip on Orin's throat, anger swirling in his eyes.

"You know, you're just as bad as me! Beating me up, killing me!"

"I'll never be as bad as you. I will NEVER, purposefully lay a hand on a woman—especially one as pure and undeserving as Audrey."

Seymour let go of his throat as Orin scowled. How was he lasting this long? He wheezed oxygen in order to get a few last words. "You know where she is right now?"

Seymour didn't respond.

"She's working. Her other job. She's making _money_ off bein' a slut. It's what she is. Your fantasies—" he coughs, then continues. "Ya fantasy about her fallin' in love with a loser like you— all lost. She's where she belongs. Girls like her 'ave no value."

Seymour pushed his glasses up further on his nose. "Your mind games don't work, Orin. I know what kinda girl Audrey is. She's sweet, and kind, and good. And until she disproves those things to me, she'll never have no value."

"Why are you so goddamn protective of the useless whore!" Orin choked out, struggling profusely against the rope now."

"Because I _love_ her," he pushes Orin, hard, back against the wall, the final blow to knock out his gas-induced brain. Orin hit the ground with a thud. "And I'm the only one out of the two of us that ever did."

 _The only crime I ever committed was loving you_

 _Oh, and also that other thing too._

"Oh, Twoey." Seymour wipes the blood on his hands onto a towel. "Both of ya Audreys make me do crazy things."

"Aww," cooed Audrey II. "But the question remains: which one of us do you love more?"

The botanist will adjust his glasses with the back of his hand and smile, lifting the blood stained crate. "Come on. You know the answer to that."

"Yeah," it chuckles, settling into its' pot. "Her."

 _The night is so calm with you here_

 _My mind is still racing_

 _Sorry, I can't hear you talk while_

 _I still hear the screams_

Audrey II was sound asleep and well-fed that night, or, that morning. Seymour stood, washed completely clean twice over by the shower in the basement. Hopefully, he noted, Audrey II's feeding brought enough luck to the shop to pay off the water bill. Everything was disposed of, forgotten, gone. Even the clothes he wore. All but his baseball cap. He felt the top of his head, then looked around his room. Maybe he threw it out on accident. He'd just buy a new one.

Tomorrow, Mushnik & Son's would hit the ground running.

Tomorrow, Seymour would finally feel like he deserved to love Audrey in silence.

Tomorrow, Audrey's bruises would start to heal for good. And anyone else who added to her pain in the future was just plant food.

 _Somehow, I don't care_

 _I know I did the right thing_.


End file.
